Spring Murder

It was April 14th. Ron ran down the stairs and to Mr. Edmund in the porter's lodge. An envelope lay on Edmund's desk. "I didn't touch it, Ronald. I called you right away. Schröder must have put it down when I briefly stepped out to pee. I didn't see him, even though I went straight out onto the street. He's not on the CCTV footage either; it only records cars. I checked immediately, but there's nothing. Absolutely nothing." Ron praised his quick reaction and took the envelope to the lab. Fingerprints only from the owner and himself. They carefully opened the envelope; it could be a letter bomb. Of course, it wasn't. A densely written page in beautiful childlike handwriting. Ron went up to the conference room and had Rosa project it onto the screen.

Attn: Detective Inspector Ronald Hofstätter

Here we are again, our game can continue. I was in Spain with my mother for six months, as you surely already know. Your Gestapo officer interrogated my mother the day before yesterday and yesterday, without having to viciously beat her up. No thanks for that; she's just doing her job by the book.

What she obviously couldn't find out is where I dumped Hanna Rosenstingl. "Dumped" is probably the wrong word. Breitenfurter Allee 12. She had a lot of fun with me, and she didn't suffer any pain. We spent two days in a frenzy of passion. She paid off her debts in many installments, in many, many neat installments, and I killed her in a flash, at the height of her ecstasy. Rosenstingl really gave my father and me a thorough dressing-down on the witness stand, as you can surely read. And that's despite the fact that Artem and I had welcomed her with open arms beforehand. I didn't torture her, even though she richly deserved it. The lovely vacation must have softened my mood.

Halali, as always, yours

Frank J. Halter

The police car sped into Breitenfurter Allee with flashing blue lights and sirens. Number 12 was an abandoned house. The door was only ajar. A rough concrete staircase led down to the cellar. There, where the staircase made a 180-degree turn, they found Hanna Rosenstingl. She was nailed naked to the wood paneling like a saint, her hands and feet biblically nailed to the wood. Her entrails had spilled out; he had slashed her open from her neck to her pubic bone with a single cut. The hunchbacked medical examiner, Dr. Gangl, straightened up. "Thank God!" Ron looked at him, uncomprehending. Dr. Gangl blinked, realizing how inappropriate it must sound. "He strangled her with the guitar string; she was dead instantly. The slashing and nailing were done post-mortem, after she was already dead. Superficially, her vagina shows no signs of violent rape. That's why I breathed a sigh of relief; the poor woman really didn't suffer. More after the autopsy." He nodded to Ron and went out to his car.

Rosa caught Ron in her arms before he could collapse. Bodnar coughed behind them. Ron didn't care; he was completely flustered. Rosa had caught him, pressing his body against her groin, and at that moment, Ron ejaculated into his underwear, his semen coming out in jerky, thrusting bursts. Rosa stared at him; she must have witnessed it all firsthand. He had seen Dr. Gangl's fingers up close, spreading Hanna Rosenstingl for inspection. At the same time, he saw her entrails, and he felt sick. Ron stammered, "I'll never get used to this. Never." Bodnar patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, Ron. Rosenstingl was over it." Ron was reluctant to pull away from Rosa, because, strangely enough, he could clearly feel the contours of her panties and her mons pubis through the fabric. But Bodnar, that bastard, should finally stop coughing.

Rosa approached the body, her hand gliding several times over the woman's curves, examining her. "Not a single hair, not even a fuzz. Frank went to a lot of trouble; maybe he even liked her." Ron nodded. "I noticed that too. Her whole body shaved as smooth as a baby's bottom." Bodnar looked suspiciously from one to the other. "What are the ladies talking about, please?" Rosa gave him a look, one of those looks. "If you'd ever had a shaved girlfriend, you'd know she'd have tiny, almost invisible stubble. No women's razor can remove it that thoroughly. Frank shaved her by hand after she died, and very thoroughly at that." Bodnar's face turned red, and he grumbled. "And that's important because...?" Rosa glared at him, not her usual look. "The perpetrator is changing his pattern, first of all. And secondly, he seemed to have taken a liking to Rosenstingl. He washed her very thoroughly from head to toe, but not with disinfectant to remove his DNA. No, more like a lover." Bodnar snorted. "I've never washed you, Rosa." She shot him a look that packed a punch. "But you're not him. You don't kill women, but you don't wash them either. Lovers do that, usually. We should take this new aspect into account in his profile; that's all I have to say about it. Keep that in mind when you're typing up the report, Bodnar." Rosa turned away abruptly, not caring that she had just given the senior officer an order.

Ron stood next to Rosenblatt. "What do you think?" Rosenblatt was also pale, but he was taking notes. "Ron, what I really don't understand is why such a brutal cut when she was already dead?" Ron nodded grimly. "We'll ask him, Rosenblatt, as soon as we get him. We'll ask him." Rosenblatt stood before the body. "A clean, smooth cut, like a Japanese sword. Am I right, Ron? Because that was my first thought. But perhaps I'm way off. Let's leave it to the doctor to decide what to write in the autopsy report." Ron went with Rosenblatt to his car. He didn't want to see Rosa or Bodnar, not now.

Rosa projected her summary onto the wall of the conference room. President Wallner smoked nervously. "What do we know about our number eight?" Rosa stared stubbornly at the wall. "In any case, she's more than just a number, Mr. President. Hanna Rosenstingl, 34 years old, police sergeant in Kagran. She was reported missing by her group leader four days ago. I spoke with him; she was diligent and always arrived on time for duty. Hence the swift missing person report. She grew up in the 9th district, living alone with her father. The usual rumors about the two of them in the neighborhood — maybe, maybe not. Unmarried, no children. Top of her class at the academy. Eleven written reprimands. I read them, of course — eleven complaints about blatant promiscuity. Her superior still recommended her as top of her class. Not unusual, since women admire and envy someone so sexually uninhibited. Top performance reviews every year; she had been recommended for higher positions. She was an informant regarding Artem Galobnikov and Frank Halter. She testified in court about her sexual relationship with Artem and Frank in detail, and truthfully described, she had intense sexual intercourse with both father and son, separately or sometimes simultaneously with one and the other. No particular boyfriend or partner; some names are on record, none stands out." Rosa looked up. "I won't question the grieving father about the incest; it's irrelevant now."

She pulled another sheet of paper from her folder. "I found something strange in the surveillance log." She placed the sheet in the projector. No one could decipher the scribbles. Rosa's pen pointed to a specific line. "There it is. Apparently, Rachel Kerzendocht has been staying at Halter's overnight for over a week. But I haven't seen her there." Bodnar racked his brain. "The woman who replaced Halter at the Grey House," Ron nudged Bodnar. Ahhh, right. Ron exchanged a glance with Motgentau. "Guessations, speculations?" Rosa met his gaze. "Either Mrs. Halter has suddenly become a lesbian, which would greatly surprise me. Or Frank Halter can walk through walls or teleport in and out. We still have no idea if he actually sleeps at home and how he gets into the house. I'm inclined to assume that the Kerzendocht is coming because of him and is staying overnight. That makes sense, but it's pure speculation."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Anyway, that was my first thought too, Rosa. The Kerzendocht has developed a crush on Dr. Weissmann in the lawyer's office — I've already allowed myself that much speculation. Cheers, Rosa!" Wallner and Rosenblatt nodded in agreement, only Bodnar looked like a broken railway signal. "So it follows that we'll pick her up for questioning?" Bodnar fired his signal flare on a hunch. President Wallner cleared his throat. "We'll do a shit, Bodnar. I'm following your train of thought; it's quite obvious. But we've got a first glimmer of hope. No, Rosa will cling to the Halters like a burr and find out where they're from, where they're going, and who's with whom. Morgentau, you have a mission. Do it your way, with a dog whip or shawm music, I don't care. Just stay on it and find out as much as you can. Okay?" Rosa nodded, because of course she already knew that she had to approach it this way. "I'll bill the Minister of the Interior for a carton of cigarettes; Halter smokes like a chimney during the interrogation. My cigarettes, mind you." Wallner stared at the projection screen. He honestly couldn't tell how serious Rosa was. "I authorize the purchase of interrogation cigarettes from the coffee fund." Now everyone burst out laughing.

Rosa's cell phone chirped, "Ah, the autopsy report." She glanced at Wallner, wondering if she should read aloud, and Wallner nodded. Back in his day, a messenger boy or a freshman would deliver the document at a gallop. Now everything was different; it all happened so fast, accompanied only by the chirp of an iPhone. He listened attentively. Rosa nodded and nodded. "Yes, Dr. Gangl confirms everything we already saw at the crime scene. The only striking thing is how meticulously Frank washed and shaved the deceased. Rosenstingl wasn't pregnant, nor had she ever given birth. Okay, we know that too. The cut he made to open her torso was extremely precise, with clean edges. Probably a scalpel," Gangl writes. "Rosenstingl was perfectly healthy and really fit, probably from running training. She had been strangled from behind with a guitar string, a deep cut through her throat, trachea, and esophagus; she died instantly. Right-handed. Apart from the crucifixion marks on her wrists and ankles, no other injuries. No signs of rape in her vagina. If she had sex, it was without any apparent resistance. Blah blah blah. Blood alcohol level 2.7 per mille; she must have been completely drunk at the time of her death. Blah blah blah. According to the toxicology report, she too was full of poppers, just like the others before her." Blah blah blah. Signed, Dr. Gangl etc."

Rosa looked up. "A completely different perpetrator behavior. As with the other autopsies, there was a lot of alcohol and quantities of drugs, poppers by the ton. But he didn't rape her like an animal like the others. The sex must have been consensual. He washed her and shaved her carefully. A completely different perpetrator profile. Because of the vacation in Spain? Who knows. I need to think about it. Changes in perpetrator profile rarely mean anything good, folks." Rosa looked around the room. Wallner was watching very intently; the youngest had taken the lead. In his day, there hadn't been any women in the Criminal Investigation Department; the Minister of the Interior had foisted Rosa on him, and he hadn't asked why. Maybe she'd had something with the Minister of the Interior once; he wasn't known to be a misogynist.

Ron watched Rosa very closely. She had smiled suggestively when he had ejaculated in his underwear at the crime scene. Of course, she had noticed, but she hadn't mentioned it again. Ron couldn't imagine what she saw in Bodnar. He was a big, gruff man, a shrewd detective, sure, but he had days when nothing went right. And he had a massive sexual problem with his pubescent daughter, which was why he was so relentlessly attacking Rosenblatt. Because Rosenblatt had solved the problem and was sleeping with his daughter as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ron wasn't a clairvoyant, but he knew they would lose Bodnar if his daughter won the fight, and she would. Definitely. Ron kept to the unmarked boundaries, both with Bodnar and Rosenblatt. Candidates who stared, as if hypnotized, at the guillotine where their heads would one day roll.

Ron, however, couldn't figure Rosa out. She was what you'd imagine with your eyes closed if you described someone as "a small, delicate Jewish woman." Yes, that's what she was. But more than her sex appeal, Ron admired her fighting skills when she had to intervene. All those guys were wrong. Small, delicate? Not at all; she could explode like Bruce Lee and send even the biggest rock careening to the floorboards. And then there was her strange urge to pull every man onto her mat. She'd pulled him onto her mat too, a long time ago. With an ease and a naturalness that was unparalleled. No, he couldn't figure Rosa out. He'd ejaculated in his underwear, his body pressed tightly against hers. Only the gods knew why.

Rosa had interviewed Mrs. Halter. Only Ron was left, working with Alfred on a report for the Minister of the Interior, commissioned by the President. Rosa sank down into the chair. "I have a relatively clear picture now, Ron. Would you like to listen?" Ron nodded; anything was better than a report to the Minister of the Interior. Rosa was now puffing away as unashamedly as Wallner, even though there was a strict no-smoking policy in these hallowed halls. Ron shoved the flowerpot with the invisible plant across the table; that was the ashtray. "So, Frank Halter sleeps at home almost every night, with his mother. She really has no idea how he gets into the house. Sometimes he comes down from the attic, where her bedroom is, sometimes he comes up the cellar stairs. He never comes in through the front door; that's where our official sits. I believe her that she has no idea how the magic trick works. Let's skip the incest part; that's already been cleared up."

The thing with Rachel Kerzendocht is probably one of the strangest things. Yes, she sleeps every night in the bedroom under the roof, in Mrs. Halter's bed. She comes to copulate with Dr. Weissmann. I swear, Ron, it's the truth. The two women have been friends for years, but since prison and Spain, everything has changed. The three of them sleep on the big mattresses, and he copulates with both of them alternately. No, don't shake your hair, Ronald, I'm just telling you what I can ascertain to be true. Frank copulates with both women alternately; the three of them have no shame in front of each other. A veritable trio infernale, but without Beelzebub. Mrs. Halter didn't want to admit it right away, but the two women also make love with each other, especially when they're waiting for him. Mrs. Halter says Kerzendocht is the first woman she's had these strange feelings for. She was completely distraught when I painstakingly coaxed it out of her. Girl sex was never voluntary for Halter, only a shameful part of her past as Artem Galebnikov's wife and whore.

She was terribly ashamed in front of me, but she admitted it, had to admit it. She looked at me very strangely, Ron. I took her hand and said, "say it out loud. That's the point of confession; when you say it out loud, it eases your conscience. That's the forgiveness every sinner longs for." Yes, Halter said, I suppose it is. She pulled herself together. "You never knew Artem, Ms. Morgentau. You obeyed his orders if you wanted to wake up the next morning. 'When London says frog, you jump.' That was him; it was one of his favorite sayings. As a young woman, I was Artem's whore, and yes, I jumped obediently, whatever it was. If he told me to get involved with this or that woman, I did it, even though women never sexually attracted me. If Artem couldn't handle a guy, he ordered me to ruin his wife and daughters. I seduced them, I ruined the wife or the daughter, and then I simply threw them on the stinking dung heap. I say this to explain my view of women. I haven't touched a girl in 30 years."

"But with Rachel, it was completely different. Yes, I invited her to stay overnight so she could have Frankie back as Dr. Weissmann. For the first few days, we didn't touch each other; we were just friends. Rachel is almost 20 years younger. And I am a withered old woman, while she is in the prime of her life. My heart pounding, I caressed her velvety skin, her feminine curves, and my emotions were on a rollercoaster for days. I was paralyzed when Rachel first touched me intimately. But it felt wonderful, so right and so beautiful, more than I had ever expected. We make love when we have to wait for Frankie. I don't regret any of it, not a single second, Ms. Morgentau. A long-buried portal has opened, and I have stepped through it."

That's not how a criminal speaks, Ronald, but a woman of 70 and over whose sexuality is experiencing an earthquake. It will be difficult to write a report about it. The shawm music worked quite well with Halter; the dog whip was a stupid idea of ​​our esteemed President.

Ron looked into Rosa's eyes. Her gaze was open and honest; she looked at him like a friend. "And you'll write it like that in your report, of course, for Wallner's sake, in proper, polished German, without the porn." Rosa nodded. "Yes, exactly. None of you think much of psychology, but I have a real doctorate, earned honestly and without embellishment. I know for certain that we'll only get results if we dissect Frank Halter's soul. The FBI is miles ahead of us there, Ron. Psychology should be a major at our academy, not just a two-hour slide show about Sigmund Freud's practice on Berggasse. That's just a charade. It's not the rank-and-file officers, but our officers who need to develop an understanding of psychology. We have to keep learning, otherwise we'll just be spinning our wheels like my good old Bodnar."

Ron was surprised by the urgency in her voice. "What is it, Ron?" He put his feet up on the desk. "Somehow it seems to me you're right, Rosa. But how we're going to sell that to Wallner or the Interior Minister is beyond me." Rosa laughed a cooing laugh, a menacing, icy, clanging laugh. "Just leave the Interior Minister to me, I was in the group on the study trip to the FBI. I've already got Harald in my pocket, I'll gladly let you have the President for free. Ever since that strange CIA incident, he's thought very highly of you, you've won his dirty heart in a heartbeat. You'll have to tell me the details of the CIA thing sometime, when we have a chance to catch our breath. Now I see that you've got other things on your mind. Spill the beans, Ron. I can listen in silence for a while; the Halters and the Kerzendocht thing is practically over." Rosa looked at him through the cigarette smoke.

Ron knew when to keep quiet and when to speak. "That thing at the crime scene, when you caught me. I can't get it out of my head, Rosa." She smiled like a Cheshire Cat. "Well, what was supposed to have happened? You were about to collapse, your guts were knocking you over, that's normal if you're not a master butcher. I'm not much different. Yes, you were having an orgasm, I noticed. Is that the problem?" Ron inclined his head. "Yes, partly at least. It seemed to me you were having a great time, damn it. Eros and Thanatos, both at once. It caught me completely off guard." Rosa smiled mysteriously. "Yes, Ron, I could see it in your eyes; it took you a few moments to get ready. I pressed you against my groin; I wanted to experience every second of the battle between Eros and Thanatos up close. I'm sorry you're embarrassed. There's nothing embarrassing about it, except for Bodnar's jealous cough."

Ron realized how hot he suddenly felt. "I could feel your panties through the fabric, your mons pubis." Rosa wasn't smiling anymore; she was serious. "Yes, because I wanted to. I pressed myself against you; I wanted to be as close as possible to you in your ecstasy. Damn it, I'm a woman, Ron, in case you haven't figured that out yet." Rosa took a cigarette; it was the last one, and she crumpled the empty pack like a gangster's throat. With automatic movements, she took the next pack from her purse.

Ron had had time to think about her words. "Rosa, listen. It has nothing to do with Bodnar, only with you and me. I'm taken, Rosa, I belong to Fatme body and soul, she's the one, she's my Miss Right, I'm absolutely certain of it. Please, please, leave me alone if you mean well." There, now it was out, he had told Rosa, clearly, unmistakably despite his trembling voice.

Rosa lit another one. "I'm not good at losing, Ron. Most of the time, no one dares to reject me. I'm used to success, like a spoiled child who always gets her way. I know how flawed I am in that respect. I envy you and Fatme for the security of having each other. I've had a lot of men, but I've never had one the way Fatme has you. You're a lucky man, Ronald. And I envy and admire you, my good man. When you collapsed into my arms there at the scene of the crime, my heart skipped a beat, no kidding. I pressed you to me, between my damned thighs, which drive every man so wild with desire. I saw Eros and Thanatos battling in your features, the most beautiful moment a man can give me. Yes, back then I wanted you, I really wanted you, and I let you feel the contours, the ones I use to subjugate all men. But you didn't respond to me, only to Eros and Thanatos. Bodnar's cough deflated that balloon. It was just a balloon. I was sad then, and I still am. I don't like losing, not really, my good man."

Ron felt a sense of security, as if he were driving straight ahead on the highway. "Rosa, I think I truly understand you. But I belong to Fatme, body and soul. Before my abduction, I hadn't fully grasped the magnitude of this security. Until then, I would have been putty in your hands. But now we've climbed so many stairs together that I don't even want to look back. I'm not dizzy; Fatme is holding my hand, and I entrust my life to her. Please understand and set me free. I would only follow you into the bushes with broken wings." They looked at each other silently, for a long time. The cigarette burned Rosa's finger. She flinched. "Yes, Ronald, yes. I know when I lost. You belong to Fatme, and I'll respect that." Ron stretched both arms across the desk and took her hands. "Thank you, Rosa."

Rosa smoked, lost in thought. "Oh, there's something else, Ronald. But it won't be in my report. On the way back, I was seized by a sudden urge and visited Hanna Rosenstingl's father. I wrote my doctoral thesis on classical and modern interrogation methods, and when I open it today, I'm ashamed of my cheeky work, my greenhorn arrogance. But they swallowed it, those academic apes. This comes to mind because I hadn't intended to interrogate the old man. I only wanted to express my condolences in person, certainly not over the phone. But the good man was favorably disposed toward the police, if only for Hanna's sake. He held my hands, and tears streamed down his wrinkled face. Yes, Hanna had been with him since she lost her mother at 16. "I trembled like an aspen leaf when I made Hanna a woman. She had many affairs afterward, but at night she lay with me, and we made love. We have a fabulous father-daughter relationship, Inspector. One that is surely pleasing to the Lord. Every evening we knelt there and spontaneously made up our prayers. We asked the Lord for his blessing, because I raised my Hanna very religiously. And Hanna often thanked the Lord for the fire in her ass; for her, it was a gift, a special favor. She loves our Lord like a loving father."

"That won't go in the record, Ronald. I don't want to take away Hanna Rosenstingl's last shred of dignity. She was one of us, a policewoman." Ronald nodded thoughtfully. Yes, it was right and good. It was astonishing how sensitive Rosa could be. "I can read your thoughts, Ronald. I'm Bodnar's lover because he sees a daughter in me. I know about his struggle with his daughter's puberty, yes. I appreciate precisely this honesty in Bodnar. He will ultimately lose the battle, without a doubt. His daughter will turn on him like a hyena, no doubt about it. But I've decided to hold my ground to the bitter end. Stubbornness is in my blood." Ron nodded in agreement. "I've often wondered what you see in that woodcutter. Good to know now, or at least have an inkling."

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